
BRYANT 









HAWTHORNE 



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Class 

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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Young Folk's Library of Choice Literature 



Stories of 

Our Authors 

HOLMES— LONGFELLOW— HAWTHORNE 
BRYANT— LOWELL— ALCOTT 



HATTIE E. MACOMBER 



EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

BOSTON 

New York Chicago San Francisco 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

T^«o Copies Received 

JUN. 6 1902 

OPVniOHT ENTRY 



o. No 



COPY B. 



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y\^ 



Copyrighted 

By educational PUBLISHLVG COMPANY. 

1898. 



CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes .... 7 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ... 41 

Nathaniel Hawthorne . . ... 83 

William Cullen Bryant . . , . loi 

James Russell Lowell . . . , . 127 

Louisa Alcott . . , . , , 151 



'^^•^■■^' 




OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 



Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



" Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime." 

— Longfellow. 

There are all kinds of great men. 

There have been great heroes famed for 
their bravery. 

Great patriots have served their country. 

And there are great musicians, great 
scientists, and an innumerable host of others 
deserving to be called great. 

But why should we call a poet great ? 

It is easy to understand why others deserve 
the title of greatness. 

But does a poet, a person who has a cunning 
sense of rhyme, and a talent for putting into 

7 



8 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

rhyme enough reason to attract readers, 
deserve to be called great ? 

Let us think about it. 

Does a poet need to do anything more than 
make rhymes? 

Oh, yes ! the poet sees all the world through 
magic spectacles. 

Most people are blind to much of the 
beauty which a poet sees. 

And a poet must first have beautiful 
thoughts before he can write them. 

So, in a world where everyone is so busy 
how much the poets have helped people to 
better and higher thoughts. 

And this poet of whom you are to read, 
could more than picture the good, the true, 
and the beautiful. 

He could make people laugh. 

Who was it who said, '' A laugh is worth a 
hundred groans in any market." 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 9 

So, when Oliver Wendell Holmes made 
people laugh, he surely made the world better. 

And you should know, just here, this about 
the poet. 

Though he lived a long life, and made jokes 
as long as he lived, he never made one which 
hurt a fellow human-being. 

His fun was of the kind which even the 
person laughed at could enjoy. 

And now let us take a peep at his early life. 

In Cambridge, Massachusetts, there once 
stood the gabrel-roofed house, where this poet 
was born. 

This house had been a General's head- 
quarters at the beginning of the Revolution. 

The tall form of General Washington was 
probably often seen there. 

This house was opposite the buildings of 
Harvard University. 



10 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

Dr. Holmes once said : " In the last week of 
August used to fall Commencement Day at 
Cambridge. 

'* I remember that week well, for something 
happened to me once at that time; namely, 
I was born." 

The year 1809, in which Oliver Wendell 
Holmes was born, was also the birth-year of 
Gladstone, Tennyson, Darwin and Lincoln. 

Dr. Holmes's father was a minister. 

His mother's girlhood name was Sarah 
Wendell. 

He was brought up, he says, in a library. 

There he bumped about among books from 
the time when he was hardly taller than one 
of his father's or grandfather's folios. 

Like other boys of his time, he was sent 
first to a dame's school. 

From ten to fifteen years of age he was in 
Cambridge. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. U 

Then he went to Phillips Academy at 
Andover. 

There he formed a friendship for a lad 
named Phineas Barnes. 

This friendship lasted until the death of 
Phineas. 

There have been few of the stories of his 
childhood kept. 

He himself tells that he was once feruled. 

He must have been a pretty good boy to 
have been whipped but once in those days 
when whipping was the fashion. 

In 1815 came the news that a treaty of 
peace had been signed in Europe between the 
Americans and British. 

This news is among the earliest recollections 
of Dr. Holmes. 

He was coming from the dame's school 
when he heard the news. 



12 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

He threw up his *'jocky" as the other boys 
did. 

He shouted '' Hoo-raw for Anleriky ! " 

What made him most glad was not the 
news, but that he was told he might sit up 
that night as long as he chose. 

But it was hardly eight o'clock when he 
*' struck his colors " and gladly went off to 
bed. 

Some boys and girls will be glad to know 
that even a great man may be afraid in the 
dark. 

Wendell Holmes had two dreads. 

One was a midnight visitor. 

The other was a visit from the doctor. 

He didn't quite believe in ghosts. 

But strange sounds at night, the creaking of 
boards, the howling winds, the footfalls of 
animals heard from a distance, kept him 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 13 

awake, and brought him unpleasant feelings. 

He never explored the garret as a boy. 

There was an old building near by filled 
with old and broken furniture. 

This he shunned as if it had been " filled 
with living bipeds and quadrupeds." 

As he grew older he became ashamed of 
such feelings. 

But he once said, ''To this day I fear a 
solitary house. 

'' And I would not sleep alone in it for the 
fee of the whole farm." 

These fears of his were caused by foolish 
stories told him in his childhood by servants. 

The doctor, whose visits he dreaded, gave 
him rhubarb and ipecac. 

These visits and the having his teeth drawn 
were his greatest childhood troubles. 

His father often exchanged pulpits with the 
ministers of other towns. 



14 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

Wendell was fond of going with him at 
such times. 

He was fond of contriving things. 

But he said he was generally in too much of 
a hurry to do things well. 

Before he had any skates he made a wooden 
one to experiment with. 

With this he went skating over the frozen 
ditches on one foot. 

He often went hunting, too, for birds and 
squirrels, carrying an old flint lock like those 
our grandfathers used in the Revolution. 

This is the poet's story of his hunting : 

" An old king's arm had been hanging up in 
the store closet ever since I could remember. 
This I shouldered, and blazed away at every 
living thing that was worthy the smallest 
shot I -could employ." 

His father's library contained between one 
thousand and two thousand books. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 15 

These were a great pleasure to him. 

He read in many books, but didn't make a 
business of reading each book through. 

A sermon was about the only thing which 
he disliked reading. 

He heard plenty of those from the pulpit. 

Once Wendell paid ten cents for a peep 
through a telescope on the Common. 

He saw the transit of Venus. 

He said that his whole idea of creation 
changed from that moment. 

He began to think of the other worlds 
beside our own. 

And his boyish heart was filled with 
thoughts of a great universe, of which the 
earth is only a little, little part. 

Cambridge, where he lived, is a beautiful 
place only three miles from Boston. 

It is particularly noted for its beautiful elm 
trees. 




WASHINGTON ELM. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 17 

It was under one of these trees that Wash- 
ington took command of the American army. 

This tree, and many others equally beauti- 
ful, could be seen from the " gabrel-roofed 
house." 

Perhaps it was because these grand trees 
surrounded his childhood home that Dr. 
Holmes loved trees all his life. 

His first poem is said to have been written 
about a tree. 

A little boy named James had planted a 
wallow twig in his father's garden. 

The twig took root and grew. 

James lived long enough to call it his tree. 

It was after his death that Wendell Holmes, 
then but seventeen years of age, wrote a poem 
called " James's Tree." 

It was published in the Youths Companion. 

Dr. Holmes said of it, '' I took the printed 



18 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

copy containing it from the postoffice, peeped 
within, and then walked home on air. 

'' I have seen my work in type since until I 
am sick of the sight of it, but I can never 
forget the great joy of that occasion." 

Dr. Holmes carried in his pocket a tape 
thirty-two feet in length, which he actually 
wore to shreds measuring the trunks of trees. 

Perhaps it vv^as because he was such a little 
man that he loved great trees. 

He wrote for his friend, Phineas Barnes, 
this description of himself. 

** I, then, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Junior in 
Harvard, am a plumeless biped of the height of 
exactly five feet, three inches, when standing in 
a pair of substantial boots made by Mr. Russell 
of this town ; having eyes which I call blue, — 
and hair which I do not know what to call." 

Mr. Holmes graduated from Harvard 
University in 1829. 



OLIVEE WENDELL HOLMES. 



One of his classmates was Mr. S. T. Smith, 
who wrote the hymn so dear to us all, — 
** America." 

Mr. Holmes's first published poems were in 
a college paper. 

And for many years he wrote class poems 
for the yearly re-union of his class. 

Indeed, he did this until there were too few 
of the class left to make the meeting pleasant. 

When this young man was ready to choose 
his life work, he found it a hard thing to 
do. 

He first tried to study law, but gave it up 
and began the study of medicine. 

In 1833, he went to the beautiful French 
city, Paris, to continue his study of medicine. 

There he spent a number of years in hard 
study. 

He learned to love Paris. 



20 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

He learned to speak the French language 
almost as well as his own. 

Sometimes he took journeys through 
different parts of Europe. 

One of these journeys was upon the Rhine. 

Dr. Holmes returned home in the autumn of 

1835- 

He began the practice of medicine. 

His heart was so tender that the sight of 
sick people made him sad and troubled. 

The pale faces of the sick in hospitals 
haunted him. 

In 1836, his first volume of poems was 
published. 

In this volume were the poems, ''Old Iron- 
sides," and '' The Last Leaf." 

Read them both. 

"Old Ironsides" is about a ship, — the 
Constitution. 



OLIVER WKNDELL HOLMES. 21 

This vessel had won many sea-battles and 
had captured many British ships. 

Because of these victories she was well 
known and very much loved by the people. 

She had been launched in 1797. 

And in 1833 she was pronounced unsea- 
worthy. 

It was decided to destroy her. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes read of this inten- 
tion in a newspaper. 

He thought it would be a shame. 

So he sat down then and there, and with a 
pencil, on some scraps of paper, wrote this 
poem, and sent it to a paper to be published. 



OLD IRONSIDES. 

' Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout. 

And burst the cannon's roar: — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more ! 

Her deck, once red with heroes blood. 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below, 
No more shall feel the victor's tread, 

Or know the conquered knee ; — 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 

O, better that her tattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave ; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave ; 
Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms, 

The lightning and the gale ! " 



24 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

This poem traveled fast and far. 

It was printed on handbills and scattered 
through the streets of Washington. 

Everybody was indignant at the thought of 
destroying this good old ship. 

And at length, because of the feeling, the 
old Constitution was saved. 

She was thoroughly repaired and put to sea 
again. 

And many years of glory have since been 
hers. 

Dr. Holmes also wrote medical essays, which 
have done much good. 

And if he had done nothing more to make 
the world better, these would entitle him to a 
place among great men. 

In 1840, he married and made for himself a 
home. 

Mrs. Holmes is said to have possessed 
every good trait known. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 2o 

They had three children, two sons and a 
daughter. 

The eldest son, Oliver Wendell, Jr., was 
three times wounded in the Civil War. 

Once the wound was in his heel. 

He came home to get well again. 

A piece of carrot was placed in the wound 
to keep it from healing too fast. 

Dr. Holmes, in treating the wound, touched 
the carrot and made Oliver, Jr. start with pain. 

The Doctor asked his son to tell him into 
what he had changed his vegetable. 

Of course he didn't know. 

<< Why, into a pa's nip (parsnip)," said the 
witty doctor. 

The doctor's second son died when but a 
young man. 

Among Dr. Holmes's friends were Long- 
fellow, Motley and Mrs. Stowe. 




BIRTHPLACE OF HOLMES, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 27 

His old home, the gambrel-roofed house, 
was torn down. 

He wrote to Mr. Lowell : '* Our old home is 
gone. I went all over it, — into every 
chamber and closet, and found a ghost in each 
and all of them, to which I said good bye. 

** Be very thankful that you still keep your 
birthplace. 

"This earth has a homeless look to me since 
mine has disappeared from its face." 

Dr. Holmes was unfortunate in seeing his 
home destroyed. 

When he was married he bought a home in 
Boston. 

But business came too near and he removed 
to another street. 

When he found workmen tearing the other 
house down, he said, '' We Americans live in 
tents." 



28 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

Afterwards he had a home on Charles 
Street, with a beautiful outlook over the 
Charles River. 

But business drove him from that 
place. 

He now moved to Beacon Street, where 
he resided until his death. 

Dr. Holmes was very fond of Nature. 

He owned a beautiful country place at 
Pittsfield. 

There he spent seven summers. 

This place of 280 acres had been purchased 
from the Indians by the state. 

The great grandfather of Dr. Holmes 
bought it from the state. 

It was called, '' Canoe Meadows." 

Dr. Holmes said that from its windows 
might be seen wonderful things among the 
mountains. 



OLIVER WENDELL FTOLMES. 29 

He could see a lion rampant, a Shanghai 
chicken, and General Jackson on horseback. 

These were done by green leaves, each by a 
single tree. 

Dr. Holmes sold this place and bought 
another. 

That place was called Beverly Farms. 

It is on the north shore of Massachusetts 
Bay. 

Dr. Holmes became a professor in Harvard 
University. 

He lectured to young students who intended 
to be physicians. 

They came to him after listening many 
hours to other lectures. 

Of course they were very tired. 

But Dr. Holmes was a wonderful talker. 

He could make them interested no matter 
how tired they were. 



30 OLIVER VVKNDELL HOLMES. 

At one time a gentleman drew at a fair an 
autograph album. 

On its leaves were painted beautiful flowers 
and foliage. 

The owner passed the book to Mr. Long- 
fellow, Mr. Emerson, Dr. Holmes and others 
who were present, requesting their autographs. 

Each selected one of the beautiful pages. 

Dr. Holmes selected a page containing a 
cluster of autumn leaves. 

He wrote these lines: — 

** Who that can pluck the flower would chose the weed, 
Leave the sweet rose and gather blooms less fair? 
And who my homely verse shall stay to read, 
Straying enchanted through this bright parterre, 
Where morning's herald lifts his purple bell 
And spring's young violet woes the wanderer's eye? 
Nay, let me seek the falling leaves that tell 
Of beggared winter's footsteps drawing nigh ; 
There shall my shred of song unshrouded lie, 
A leaf that dropped in memory's flowery dell ; 
The breath of friendship stirred it, and it fell 
Tinged with the loving hue of Autumn's fond farewell." 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 31 

You have known of the magazine called the 
Atlantic Monthly. 

Its first editor was the poet, James Russell 
Lowell. 

He asked Dr. Holmes to name the 
magazine. 

And he it was who called it the '' Atlantic." 

It was to this magazine that Dr. Holmes 
sent his work for long, long years. 

In its pages were printed the wise sayings of 
the '* Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." 

So well did people like it that Dr. Holmes 
came to be called the Autocrat. 

You will often hear him called that even 
now. 

It was his nom de plume, or name of his 
pen. 

He wrote, too, some stories. 

One was called '' Elsie Venner." 



32 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

Another was '' The Guardian Angel." 

You will like to know this poet's favorite 
poem. 

Perhaps it is your favorite, too. 

It is the '' Chambered Nautilus." 

The Nautilus is a little sea creature. 

It lives in a queer shell. 

New chambers grow as it needs them. 

So it constantly has new rooms to live in as 
it grows. 

This makes a shell spiral in shape. 

Dr. Holmes found a lesson for our lives in 
this queer shell. 

So he wrote the lesson into this beautiful 
poem of '' The Chambered Nautilus." 

Dr. Holmes has written a poem about one 
of his grandmothers. 

A nephew of the poet had a little daughter. 

They called her Dorothy Q. Upham, after 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 33 

the well-known Dorothy Q. of the Doctor's 
poem. 

Dr. Holmes was always a very busy man. 

Many strangers wrote letters to him. 

They wanted all sorts of things. 

But oftenest they wanted his advice about 
trying to write books. 

The good Doctor answered every letter 
kindly, though it grew to be a great task. 

He was such a pleasant companion that he 
was wanted at many social affairs. 

He could not attend all, though he enjoyed 
society greatly. 

But here is a case where he made people 
laugh even though far away. 

Once a club in San Francisco voted Dr. 
Holmes a member. 

They sent him a telegram which reached 
him at dead of night. 



34 OLIVER AVENDELL HOLMES. 

No reply was expected. 

The people of the club were greatly aston- 
ished at receiving a despatch before their 
meeting adjourned. 

This was the message : — 

" Message from San Francisco ! Whisper low — 
Asleep in bed an hour or more ago, 
While on the peaceful pillow he reclines 
Say to his friend who sent these loving lines 
Silent, unanswering, still to friendship true, 
He smiles in slumber for he dreams of you." 

Dr. Holmes was fond of receiving letters. 

He said to a lady correspondent: ''There is 
something in a live letter, just from the mail, 
like a hot cake just from the griddle. A book 
can give much, but the hot cake and the warm 
letter have a charm all their own." 

So this dear poet of ours spent his years. 

Though he cheered the world with many a 
laugh, he did more than that. 

He wrote much that made the world better 
in other ways. 



OLIVER WENDKLL HOLMES. 35 

He wrote very carefully and consulted many 
books. 

He was very particular about the language 
in his writings. 

He won praise from the printers for his 
careful copies. 

Indeed, he did nothing carelessly. 

Dr. Holmes was fond of other things besides 
medicine and writing. 

He was fond of inventing. 

He invented a valuable physician's instru- 
ment. 

He took out no patent for this invention. 

Had he done so he might have been a rich 
man. 

He loved fine horses and knew all about 
their good points. 

He tried bringing out the music hidden in a 
violin. 



36 OLIVER WENDELL IKn.MES. 

He tried photography and was quite 
successful with it. 

His knowledge of trees became so great that 
he was consulted by the great botanist, 
Professor Gray. 

He became proficient in the use of the 
microscope. 

It was when using this instrument that he 
discovered a trouble with his eyes. 

A growth, called cataract, threatened to 
make him blind. 

But this sad thing never happened, though 
his sight became dimmed. 

Dr. Holmes had a great love for Boston. 

He had spent nearly all his life there. 

In 1886 he took a trip to Europe. 

His daughter, Mrs. Sargent, was with him. 

Many honors were given him there. 

He visited the great University at Oxford. 



OLIVP^H WENDELL HOLMES. 87 

Some saucy students in the gallery inquired 
if he came in the '' One-Hoss-Shay." 

But Dr. Holmes enjoyed a joke even when 
at his expense. 

The students liked him. 

You will enjoy reading " The One-Hoss- 
Shay." 

In 1 87 1 he wrote the '' Poet at the Breakfast 
Table." 

But it was in his old age, in 1888, that he 
wrote " Over the Teacups." 

This is considered a wonderful thing for so 
old a man to do. 

But Dr. Holmes seems hardly to have 
grown old. 

Age came on him so slowly, and he was so 
bright and active, that even his friends hardly 
realized his many years. 

He died in his chair, painlessly, Oct. 7, 1894. 



THE DORCHESTER GIANT. 

There was a gianc in time of old, 

A mighty one was he ; 
He had a wife, but she was a scold, 
So he kept her shut in his mammoth fold ; 

And he had children three. 

It happened to be an election day, 

And the giants were choosing a king; 
The people were not democrats then, 
They did not talk of the rights of men, 
And all that sort of thing. 

Then the giant took his children three 

And fastened them in the pen ; 
The children roared ; quoth the giant, " Be still ! " 
And Dorchester Heights and Milton Hill 

Rolled back the sound again. 

Then he brought them a pudding stuffed with plums 
As big as the State-House dome ; 

Quoth he, ''There's something for you to eat; 

So stop your mouth with your 'lection treat, 
And wait till your dad comes home." 

So the giant pulled him a chestnut stout, ' 

And whittled the boughs away ; 
The boys and their mother set up a shout, 
Said he, "You're in, and you can't get out, 

Bellow as loud as you may." 

;:]8 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 39 

Off he went, and he growled a tune 

As he strode the fields along; 
'Tis said a buffalo fainted away, 
And fell as cold as a lump of clay, 

When he heard the giant's song. 

But whether the story's true or not. 

It is not for me to show; 
There's many a thing that's twice as queer 
In somebody's lectures that we hear, 

And those are true, you know. 

What are those lone ones doing now. 

The wife and the children sad ? 
O ! thty are in a terrible rout, 
Screaming and throwing their pudding about, 

Acting PS they were mad. 

They flung it over to Roxbury hills, 

They flung it over the plain, 
And all over Milton and Dorchester too 
Great lumps of pudding the giants threw ; 

They tumbled as thick as rain. 

Giant and mammoth have passed away. 

For ages have floated by ; 
The suet is hard as a marrow bone, 
And every plum is turned to a stone, 

But there the puddings lie. 

And if, some pleasant afternoon, 

You'll ask me out to ride, 
The whole of the story I will tell. 
And you shall see where the puddings fell, 

And pay for the punch beside. 



Ji 




HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



Ienry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



Upon the eastern shores of our country lies 
a fair city. 

This is Portland in the state of Maine. 

It is built upon a peninsula and looks down 
upon the beautiful waters of a bay. 

Far in the distance is Mount Washington. 

The streets of the city are shaded with great 
elm trees. 

The cool sea-breezes are ever active in 
driving away the heat of summer. 

4i 



42 LONGFELLOW. 

Here was' born, February 27, 1807, the poet 
Longfellow. 

He was named for his mother's brother, 
whose name was Henry Wadsworth. 

This young man had given his life to his 
country's service. 

He was in the United States navy on board 
the ship, Intrepid. 

They were far away upon the northern coast 
of Africa. 

Rather than be taken by the enemy, this 
ship was blown to pieces by the crew. 

And among others, Henry Wadsworth 
perished with the good ship. 

Henry Longfellow's father was a lawyer. 

He was a man greatly honored by all who 
knew him. 

His mother, too, was a woman of noble 
character. 



LONGFELLOW. 43 

Henry was the second son in a family of 
four sons and four daughters. 

The earliest mention of the poet is in a letter 
which his mother wrote to a friend when he 
was but eight months old. 

'' I think you would like my little Henry W. 
He is an active rogue and wishes for nothing 
so much as for singing, or dancing." 

When he was five years of age, people were 
talking much about a war with England. 

His aunt wrote: *' Our little Henry is ready 
to march ; he had his tin gun prepared and 
his head powdered a week ago." 

The next time we hear of him, he has given 
up his warlike playthings for a pen. 

He sent this message: — 

'' Oh, tell papa I am writing at school — a, 
b, c ; and send my love to him, and I hope he 
will bring me a drum." 



44 LONGFELLOW. 

This is the first letter he wrote : 

Portland. 

Dear Papa, — " Ann wants a little Bible 
like Betsey's. Will you please buy her one if 
you can find any in Boston ? I have been at 
school all the week, and got only seven marks. 
I shall have a billet on Monday. I wish you 
would buy me a drum." 

Henry W. Longfellow. 

His father wrote him a pleasant letter in 
reply. 

Once Henry lamed his elbow in turning a 
somersault when coming out of school. 

He. had to carry his arm in a sling. 

By all this you will see he was a boy like 
other boys. 

He is remembered by those who knew him 
as a lively boy. 

His hair was of a chestnut brown colon 



LONGFELLOW. 45 

His cheeks were rosy. 

He was very active and enjoyed all sorts of 
play. 

Sometimes he was impatient. 

And he had what is called a quick temper. 

But he was kind hearted and affectionate. 

He loved neatness and order. 

He was true, highminded and noble. 

He could not endure injustice to any one. 

He was industrious, and did with all his 
might whatever he undertook. 

Unlike most boys, he did not enjoy the racket 
of a Fourth of July. 

Once he begged to have cotton in his 
ears, to deaden the sound of the cannon. 

Some one accused him of being afraid. 

This he indignantly denied. 

But he thoroughly enjoyed ball, kite-flying, 
swimming, snowballing, coasting and skating. 



46 LONGFELLOW. 

With his brother Stephen he made many 
excursions through the woods. 

Stephen was fond of a gun. 

But once Henry shot a robin. 

He came home with his eyes filled with 
tears, and never went hunting again. 

Sometimes circuses came to Portland. 

These boys were fond of attending such 
shows. 

Afterwards they came home and performed 
before an audience consisting of their sisters. 

Henry had a rocking-horse. 

He was once riding this so boldly that 
horse and rider fell together. 

The neck of the poor horse was broken. 

There were many kinds of books in his 
home. 

And there was a good library in Portland. 

So this boy read much. 



LONGFELLOW. 47 

The first book with which he became familiar 
was the ''Sketch Book." 

This was written by Washington Irving. 

On Sundays the children went to '' meeting " 
twice a day. 

There were no Sunday-schools then. 

But on Sunday afternoons Mrs. Longfellow 
gathered her children about her. 

Together they read in the Bible and en- 
joyed the talks about it. 

The evenings were spent in the family 
sitting-room. 

The children gathered about the table with 
their books and slates. 

Everything was quiet until lessons were 
done. 

Then there were games until bedtime. 

Then they went to bed-rooms, which were 
never warmed. 



48 LONGFELLOW. 

Often in the morning they broke the ice in 
the pitchers to obtain water for washing. 

Henry's school Hfe began when he was but 
three years of age. 

He went to a lady's school and learned his 
letters. 

Afterwards he attended several schools. 

While at the academy he one day brought 
home this note, signed by his teacher: 

'' Master Henry Longfellow is one of the 
best boys we have in school. He spells and 
reads very well. He can also add and mul- 
tiply numbers. His conduct last quarter was 
very correct and amiable. June 30, 18 13." 

The vacations were often spent at the 
grandfather's. 

There the boys played they were farmers. 

They followed the mowers. 

They went after the cows in the evening. 



LONGFELLOW. 49 

They picked the sweet, wild strawberries. 

And how interested they were in the diary ! 

The cheese-making and butter-making were 
full of mystery to them. 

Then in-doors how delightful to watch the 
spinning ! 

Sometimes they went to see Grandfather 
Wadsworth. 

He was their mother's father and lived 
farther away. 

Mr. Wadsworth dressed in the fashion of 
the days of long ago. 

He had been a soldier and still carried 
himself like one. 

He wore a bright scarlet coat, a buff vest, 
full ruffled shirt bosom, ruffles over his hands, 
knee breeches, white stockings, and shoes with 
silver buckles. 

His hair was powdered and tied in a knot 
upon his shoulders. 



50 LONGFELLOW. 

The boys were never tired of listening to 
the General's story of his capture by the 
British, his imprisonment and escape. 

Near the home of this grandfather was a 
small lake, called Lovell's Pond. 

It had once been the scene of a fight with 
the Indians. 

Henry was much interested in the story. 

And in November of 1820 there were some 
verses printed in a Portland newspaper. 

Their title was " The Battle of Lovell's 
Pond." 

They were signed '' Henry." 

These were the first verses written by the 
poet. 

He told no one but his favorite sister about 
them. 

They were very anxious to see the paper. 

One cold November evening, when the 



LONGFELLOW. 51 

paper was being printed, Henry stood outside 
the windows and watched the printers. 

He was afraid to go in. 

Their father received his paper and unfolded 
it slowly. 

He held it before the fire to dry the still 
damp sheet. 

Slowly he read it through. 

Patiently the children waited. 

But he said nothing about the verses. 

Perhaps he didn't see them. 

The children kept their secret. 

But when they could get the paper, how 
great was their delight ! 

The poem was there. 

In the evening Henry went with his father 
to the home of a judge, his father's friend. 

The Judge took up the morning paper. 

*' Did you see this piece in today's paper?" 



52 LONGFELLOW. 

he said. ''Very stiff, remarkably stiff; more- 
over it is all borrowed, every word of it." 

Poor Henry's heart sank. 

He left the house as soon as possible. 

There were tears on his pillow that night. 

But he didn't give up writing verses. 

With a boy friend he continued to write. 

You may read a very beautiful poem about 
the poet's childhood and beautiful Portland 
which he loved so much. 

This poem, written after he becam^e a great 
man, is called, *' My Lost Youth." 

Mr. Longfellow became a student in 
Bowdoin College. 

He had grown to be a handsome young man. 

He won many friends by his kind and 
pleasant ways. 

During his whole life he was a true 
gentleman. 



LONGFELLOW. 53 

He was a hard student. 

It is said he never allowed himself to come 
to a recitation with a lesson unprepared. 

He always held a high rank in college. 

Nathaniel Hawthorne, who afterward became 
so famous, was a member of his class. 

While in college Mr. Longfellow wrote and 
published a number of poems. 

A few of these were afterward published 
with his later poems. 

When a boy is in college he begins to think 
seriously of what he is to do in his manhood 
days. 

Mr. Longfellow wished to devote his life to 
the study and writing of books. 

He feared his father would object to this. 

He asked his father to allow him a year at 
Cambridge. 

But after graduating, another plan was 
proposed. 



54 LONGFELLOW. 

He was asked to study in Europe for a 
year. 

Then he was to become a professor in 
Bowdoin College. 

Ocean steamships were then unknown. 

Voyages to Europe were made in sailing 
vessels. 

Mr. Longfellow spent the fall and winter in 
Portland. 

In April he went to New York. 

There he set sail, and reached France in 
June. 

Months were spent in Paris in the study of 
French. 

Sometimes he grew quite discouraged. 

At the same time he studied Italian. 

He wished to study Spanish in Spain. 

Travelers in those days were afraid to 
travel in Spain, 



LONGFELLOW. 55 

The mountains were full of robbers. 

But Mr. Longfellow determined to go. 

He found Spain a poverty-stricken country. 

Many of the people were idle and ragged. 

Both the rich and poor in Spain wear cloaks. 

Sometimes the cloak is only a blanket. 

But a cloak of some kind each must have. 

The Spaniards wear these garments very 
gracefully. 

Sometimes the poor beggar carries himself 
with the air of a nobleman. 

In the capital city of Spain Mr. Longfellow 
found other Americans. 

Among them was Washington Irving, the 
author of the '* Sketch Book." 

Mr. Longfellow grew as fond of Mr. Irving 
as he had always been of the '' Sketch Book." 

But no robbers attacked him in all Spain. 

He learned to like the country very much. 



56 LONGFELLOW. 

Long afterwards he was fond of thinking 
and speaking about this country. 

He never visited it again. 

He feared that his pleasant memory of it 
might be spoiled if he went again. 

The Spanish have strange greetings. 

When greeting a lady they say, '' Senora, I 
throw myself at your Grace's feet." 

And the lady replies, *' I kiss your Grace's 
hand Senor." 

After visiting many beautiful places, and 
spending eight months in Spain, Mr. Long- 
fellow sailed upon the blue Mediterranean to 
France. 

Then he went to Italy. 

In Rome he met a dear friend, and spent 
many pleasant hours with him. 

He studied Italian among those who spoke 
it best. 



LONGFELLOW. 57 

He said every language learned opened a 
new world for him. 

He urged his sisters at home to study 
languages. 

So he wandered from one country to another. 
Often he saw strange customs among the 
people. 

Often his heart glowed as he looked upon the 
beautiful scenes. 

After a few days spent in the greatest of 
cities, London, he set sail for America. 

He reached home in August, 1829. 

In the autumn he took up his residence 
in Brunswick, where Bowdoin College is. 

There, at the age of twenty-two, he became 
a teacher where he had once been a pupil. 

Not finding books which suited him for 
the teaching of languages, he published one 
of his own, 



58 ,longfp:llow. 

The new professor was much liked. 

He was so pleasant, so courteous and full 
of sympathy, that the students regarded him 
as a friend. 

One person, in whose home he visited, said, 
'' His coming into our house was like sun- 
shine." 

In 1 83 1 he married Miss Mary Storer 
Potter. 

She was finely educated. 

And in character and person she was very 
lovely. 

Mr. and Mrs. Longfellow began house- 
keeping. 

Then the poet began to collect a library. 

He continued to write. 

You may know that his was a busy life. 

It was at Brunswick that he wrote his 
book, ''Outre-Mer." 



LONGFELLOW. 59 

This was written in prose. 

And although he is much better known 
as a poet, he has written several books of 
prose. 

'' Outre Mer " describes many of the scenes 
of his travels in Europe. 

In 1834 Mr. Longfellow received an 
offer to become a professor in Harvard 
University. 

It was suggested that he spend more time 

in Europe in the study of languages. 

This was a pleasing offer and he accepted 
it. 

So, with his wife and two young lady friends, 
he again sailed for Europe. 

A few weeks were spent in London, where 
he met many nice people. 

Then there were journeys in Germany, 
Denmark, and Sweden. 



60 LONGFELLOW. 

In a Swedish city Mr. Longfellow wrote of 
reading easily at midnight. 

For they were in the " Land of the Mid- 
night Sun." 

The watchman cried aloud from the watch- 
tower four times: — 

'' Ho, watchman, ho ! Twelve the clock has 
stricken. God keep our town from fire and 
brand and enemy's hand." 

In Stockholm Mr. Longfellow studied the 
Swedish language. 

In Copenhagen he studied Danish. 

Mrs. Longfellow had been in poor health. 

In Rotterdam she became very ill. 

She became no better, and died upon 
November 29th. 

This was indeed a heavy blow to Mr. 
Longfellow. 

He found it hard to go on with his work. 



LONGFELLOW. 61 

But he tried to be brave. 

In a poem, called '* Footsteps of Angels," he 
speaks of her as 

" the being beautiful 
^ Who unto my youth was given, 

More than all things else to love me." 

He studied in the German city of Heidelberg. 

There he met another of our poets, William 
Cullen Bryant. 

Mr. Bryant spent the winter in Heidelberg. 

In the spring Mr. Longfellow took a trip 
through beautiful Switzerland. 

Here were the great Alps. 

The greatest mountain in Europe, Mount 
Blanc, looked down on him. 

Rivers of ice were to be seen. 

In Switzerland he met some Boston friends. 

These helped to cheer his loneliness. 

Soon he was in Paris again. 



02 LONGFELLOW. 

At the hotel table one day, one of the 
dishes was frog-pie. 

A little boy asked, '' Do they pull the 
stems off and put them right in whole ? " 

In 1836 Mr. Longfellow took up his work in 
Harvard College. 

He became as great a favorite here as in 
other places. 

He made the acquaintance of Mr. Charles 
Sumner. 

A friendship was formed which lasted all 
their lives. 

You may read of Mr. Sumner in the history 
of our country. 

He became a great orator. 

He worked for the freedom of the slaves. 

Have you seen a picture of the Craigie House 
in Cambridge ? 

It is a low, old-fashioned house, shaded with 
elms. 



LONGFELLOW. 63 

Upon the door is a great brass knocker. 
This house was built a long time ago, about 

1759- 

After the battle of Bunker Hill the American 

army gathered about Boston. 

General Washington took this house for his 
headquarters. 

Here Mrs. Washington came and joined her 
husband. 

The room which was Washington's after- 
wards became Mr. Longfellow's study. 

He wrote these lines about it : — 
'' Yes, within this very room 
Sat he in those hours of gloom 
Weary both in heart and head." 

Some queer stories are told of this house in 
Washington's time. 

An old woman was one day captured within 
the American lines. 



64 LONGFELLOW. 

She was accused of being a spy, and was 
brought before General Putnam. 

The general thought she should be taken 
before the commander-in-chief. 

The party arrived at the gate before Wash- 
ington's headquarters. 

There the woman refused to go any farther. 

General Putnam seized her and carried her 
upon his back up the pathway to the door. 

Washington, seeing him from the window, . 
laughed heartily at the scene. 

At another time several generals were at the 
headquarters. 

Word was brought that the British were 
doing some firing in Boston. 

The officers rushed for their war gear. 

General Greene called to the barber, '' My 
wig ! where is my wig ? " 

'' Behind the looking-glass, General," said 
some one. 



LONGFELLOW. 6.5 

The general's wig was upon his head. 

In time, this house was owned by Mr. 
Craigie, a very wealthy gentleman. 

After his death his wife continued to live in 
the house. 

She rented the rooms she did not use. 

When Mr. Longfellow went to Cambridge, 
he went to the Craigie House, looking for a 
room. 

He was a very young looking gentleman. 

Mrs. Craigie showed him over the house. 

But she kept saying, '^ That's a good room, 
but you cannot have it." 

At length Mr. Longfellow said he should 
like certain rooms which she showed him. 

Mrs. Craigie said, '' I do not rent those rooms 
to students." 

'* But," said Mr. Longfellow, '' I am not a 
student. I am a professor." 




LONGFELLOW S HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE, 



LONGFELLOW. 67 

Mrs. Craigie was much pleased to make his 
acquaintance. 

She said she had read '' Outre-Mer." 

Soon the bargain about the rooms was 
made. 

So the poet became an inmate of the Craigie 
House. 

There he read, studied and thought. 

There he prepared the lectures for his classes. 

There he wrote his sweet verses. 

The first poem written there was called 
'' Flowers." 

It begins this way: — 

'* Spoke full well in language quaint and olden 
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, 

When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, 
Stars that in earth's firmament do shine." 

The next poem was the well known " Psalm 
of Life." 



G8 LONGFELLOW. 

Often people came to Mr. Longfellow and 
thanked him for his poem. 

They said it had helped them to live better 
lives. 

Mr. Longfellow loved his friends. 

He had a great many. One was Nathaniel 
Hawthorne. 

He was never happier than when entertaining 
them. 

Charles Dickens, when a young man, came 
to America. 

Mr. Longfellow and he became fast friends. 

Mr. Longfellow tells this funny story in a 
letter to a friend. 

A little girl lay in her crib. 

She saw a '' father-long-legs" crawl over her 

pillow. 

« 

She cried to her mother *' Oh, mamma, here's 
Mr. Longfellow in here." 



LONGFELLOW. 69 

Mr. Longfellow continued to write prose. 

Some of his finest short poems were written 
during his first years at Cambridge. 

He read one day of the dreadful wreck of a 
vessel upon some rocks called the Reef of 
Norman's Woe. 

Then he wrote the " Wreck of the Hesperus." 

So much hard work told upon the poet's 
health. 

In 1842 he went to Europe to regain his 
health. 

He visited Mr. Dickens and made the 
acquaintance of his family. 

On the voyage home he wrote some poems 
about slavery. 

A few people were already beginning to think 
slavery a great evil. 

In 1843 ^^- I-ongfellow again married. 

His bride was Miss F^ ranees Appleton of 
Boston. 



LONGFELLOW. 



Her father bought the Craigie House and 
gave it to them for their home. 

He also gave them the large grounds sur- 
rounding it. 

These grounds reached to the River Charles. 

They had a beautiful view of the river. 

Mr. Longfellow wrote a poem called the 
" River Charles." 

Mr. Longfellow had injured his eyes reading 
in the twilight. 

Mrs. Longfellow did much of his writing for 
him. 

Much of the poem " Evangeline" was written 
in the dark with a pencil. 

Evangeline was a beautiful girl, who lived in 
Acadia. 

The people of her village were taken from 
their homes by the English troops. 

The people were separated and scattered. 



LONGFELLOW. 71 

Evangeline and her lover were separated.* 

She searched many years for him. 

But she did not find him until he was an old 
man. 

He was dying in a hospital. 

It is a sad, but beautiful poem. 

You have no doubt read " The Children's 
Hour." 

Mr. Longfellow had six children. 

There were two boys, Charles and Ernest. 

The girls' names were Alice, Edith and 
Allegra. 

One little daughter, Frances, died. 

Mr. Longfellow loved his children dearly. 

He was fond of giving them pleasure. 

And they enjoyed nothing better than a 
romp with their poet papa. 

Mr. Longfellow gave up his pleasant study 
to the children. 



LONGFELLOW. 73 

He then took the room just below theirs. 

Mr. Lowell was another of Mr. Longfellow's 
friends. 

Mr. Lowell's beautiful young wife died upon 
the same night that a little daughter was born 
in the Longfellow home. 

Mr. Longfellow wrote ''The Two Angels." 

The college work, with his writing, proved 
too much for Mr. Longfellow's health. 

So Mr. Lowell took his place in Harvard 
College. 

. Mr. Longfellow^ had won many friends 
abroad. 

The English people liked him and enjoyed 
his poems. 

In one school the boys voted him the poet of 
the age. 

It was during these pleasant years that 
"Hiawtha" was written. 



74 LONGFELLOW. 

This was a poem made from Indian legends. 

Mr. and Mrs. Longfellow went often into 
Boston to attend fine entertainments. 

They heard Jenny Lind, the fine Swedish 
singer. 

Mr. Longfellow said, " She sings like a 
morning star." 

The days sped on rapidly for this happy 
family. 

Friends visited them from all parts of the 
world. 

Craigie house seemed like a home to all who 
visited it. 

But a dreadful thing happened in the 
Craigie House. 

Upon July 9, 1 86 1, Mrs. Longfellow was in 
the library with her two little girls. 

She had been cutting some of their curls. 

Then she began sealing the curls in small 
packages. 



LONGFELLOW. 75 

Somehow her light dress caught fire from a 
match that had fallen to the floor. 

She was so seriously burned that she died 
the next morning. 

She was buried upon the anniversary of her 
wedding-day. 

Some one placed a wreath of orange blos- 
soms upon her hair. 

Mr. Longfellow was so seriously burned as 
not to be able to attend the funeral. 

This sudden and dreadful affliction almost 
crushed him. 

It was months before he could speak of it. 

He wrote to one of his brothers, '' And now, 
of what we both are thinking, I can write no 
word. God's will be done." 

But bravely he took up the work of his life. 

He interested himself in books and in those 
around him. 



76 LONGFELI.OW. 

Some of his best work was done after this 
sorrow. 

His son Charles went into the war for the 
freedom of the slaves. 

In December, 1863, he received a telegram 
that Charles had been seriously wounded. 

In the greatest anxiety, he hastened, with his 
son Earnest, to Washington. 

There he was told that the wounded would 
reach Washington the next day. 

But it was several days before they came. 

Charles had a terrible wound. 

A ball entered his shoulder under one 
shoulder-blade and passed out under the other. 

The physicians were not very hopeful. 

But with good care this boy of only nineteen 
was saved. 

Mr. Longfellow's love for children is well 
known. 



r.()N(TFELLO\V 



Many children visited him in his study. 

One little boy, of whom he was very fond, 
came often. 

One day this little fellow looked earnestly 
down the long rows of books in the library. 

At length he looked up and said, " Have you 
got ' Jack the Giant-Killer?'" 

" No," said Mr. Longfellow, " I haven't that 
book in my library." 

Early next morning Mr. Longfellow saw him 
coming up the walk. 

In his fists he held something very tightly. 

The child had brought him two cents. 

With this Mr. Longfellow was to buy him a 
"Jack the Giant-Killer" for his very own. 

Mr. Longfellow wrote a poem about the 
village blacksmith. 

'' Under the spreading chestnut tree 
The village smithy stands." 



78 LONGFELLOW. 

This chestnut tree was cut down. 

A part of the wood was saved and made 
into a beautiful chair. 

The children of Cambridge presented this 
chair to the poet on his seventy-second 
birthday. 

Around the base of the chair are carved the 
lines: — 

'* The children coming home from school 

Peep in at the open door 
And watch the burning sparks that fly 

Like chaff from a threshing floor ! " 

Mr. Longfellow wrote a poem to the children 
in reply to their gift. 

The last lines of the poem are — 

'' Only your love and remembrance could 
Give life to this dead wood 
And make these branches, leafless now so long, 
Blossom again in song." 



LONGFELLOW. 79 

Mr. Longfellow lived until March, 1882. 

He received his Harpers Magazine for 
March. 

In it there was an article about Mexico. 

It spoke of the convent of San Bias upon 
the Pacific Coast as having been destroyed. 

This suggested Mr. Longfellow's last poem, 
''The Bells of San Bias." 

On March 15, he wrote the last stanza. 

" O Bells of San Bias, in vain 
Ye call back the Past again ; 
The Past is deaf to heed your prayer; 
Out of the shadows of the night 
The world rolls in light. 
It is daybreak everywhere." 

In the forenoon of March 18 there came 
four school boys from Boston, 
They asked permission to visit him. 



80 LONGFELLOW. 

He received them with his usual kindness. 

He showed them the study and the view of 
the Charles from the window. 

He wrote his name in their albums. 

In the afternoon he went to walk upon the 
veranda. 

He took a severe chill. 

And from the sickness that followed he did 
not recover. 

He died on Friday, March 24. 

He was laid away in Mount Auburn. 

Only kind words were said of this man, and 
of his life among men. 

Many honors were given him. 

Many tributes to his memory were paid 
him. 

The English people placed a l^ust of Mr. 
Longfellow in Westminster Abbey in the Poets' 
Corner, 



LONCiFEI.LOW. 81 

But no better words could be spoken of this 
kindly poet than these by a brother poet: — 

" He has written no line which, dying, he 
could wish to blot : nor one which, living, he 
has not a right to be proud of." 




HAWTHORNE. 



Nathaniel Hawthorne, 



One Fourth of July, many years ago, a little 
boy was born. 

His name was Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

It was a long name for a little boy. 

Perhaps his parents called him Natty, or 
Nat. 

He lived in a very old town, called Salem. 

Salem is in Massachusetts. 

It contains many queer-looking houses with 
gables on them. 

Little Nathaniel liked to make up stories 
about these houses. 

8-6 




HAWTHORNE S HOUSE, SALEM. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. ,s5 

When he became a man, he wrote a long 
story about one of them. 

This story is called '' The House of Seven 
Gables." 

Nathaniel lived in his grandfather's house. 

It was near the sea. 

Back of the house was a beautiful garden. 

He liked to roll on the grass under the 
apple trees. 

There he would watch the ships as they 
came and went. 

Nathaniel was a very pretty boy. 

He had long, golden curls. 

He had bright, blue eyes. 

He had two sisters, who were older than he. 

Their names were Louise and Elizabeth. 

They were very proud of their little brother. 

He had many aunts and uncles. 

They all loved little Nathaniel very much. 



86 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

But he was not a spoiled child. 

He always was a good boy. 

Mr. Hawthorne was a sea-captain. 

He died at sea when Nathaniel was a little 
boy. 

There were many sea-captains in the 
Hawthorne family. 

Nathaniel did not care to go to sea. 

He did not have a happy childhood. 

His mother was always very sad. 

Her husband's death was a great sorrow to 
her. 

She very seldom left the house. 

She always ate her meals alone in her own 
room. 

So Nathaniel was very quiet at home. 

He liked to play ball with the boys. 

One day he was lamed by a ball. 

He had to use crutches for a long time. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 87 

For some time he could not even sit up. 

He had to lie prostrate. 

He used to lie on the floor and read. 

He liked to read very much. 

He did not always read children's books. 

He would read anything he could find to 
read. 

'' Pilgrim's Progress " was his favorite book. 

He was very fond of animals. 

But he liked cats best of all. 

When he was lame he played a great deal 
with pussy. 

Once he knit a pair of stockings for her. 

Sometimes he teased his cats. 

But he was never cruel to them. 

Once he threw a kitten over the fence. 

His sister told him that poor pussy would 
not like him again. 

He said, " Oh, she'll think it was William." 



.S8 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

William was a little playmate. 

I wonder if Pussy did think so. 

Nathaniel was not a strong boy. 

He was lame so much that he could not run 
about like other boys. 

One of his teachers was Joseph Worcester. 

Joseph Worcester is the author of the 
dictionary which we sometimes use in school. 

While Nathaniel was lame, Mr. Worcester 
heard him recite his lessons every evening. 

The family moved to a very quiet place in 
Maine. 

It was near a beautiful lake. 

This lake is called Lake Sebago. 

The house was owned by an uncle. 

It was a large, gloomy house. 

There were many pine trees around it. 

The neighbors were very few. 

Nathaniel had no boy friends. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 89 

He liked to wander about alone. 

In the winter he skated on the ice. 

In the summer he liked to hunt and fish. 

There were many forests in those days. 

The land was not cleared as it is now. 

So foxes and bears were often seen. 

One day Nathaniel saw a large black bear. 

He followed the bear a long distance. 

But he was unable to shoot him. 

It was like camping out to live near the 
lake. 
. Nathaniel grew well and strong. 

He loved the quiet of the woods. 

He loved the fragrant odor of the pine trees. 

The birds and squirrels were his playmates. 

He used to take long walks. 

Then he would make up strange stories 
about what he saw and heard. 

There was no school near. 



90 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

So Nathaniel had to leave this delightful 
place. 

He went back to Salem to study. 

There he prepared for college. 

He felt very proud when he started for 
college. 

He had to travel by stage-coach. 

In those days there were no railroads. 

People had to travel in stage-coaches. 

The stage-coach was drawn by four strong 
horses. 

The driver would go from house to house 
for passengers. 

When he was ready to start he would blow 
his horn and crack his whip. 

Then he would drive away in great state. 

It was not so easy to travel then as it is now. 

Nathaniel made some dear friends while at 
college. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 91 

One of his friends was the famous poet, 
Longfellow. 

Another friend was afterwards President of 
the United States. 

Mr. Hawthorne was a handsome young man. 

One day an old gipsy woman met him. 

She looked at him a moment. 

Then she asked him whether he was a man 
or an angel. 

He was very strong and brave. 

He could walk many miles. 

He could jump very high. 

He often jumped as high as five feet. 

After he left college he wrote a book about 
his college life. 

He was too shy to have it read. 

After it was printed he burned the book. 

When Mr. Hawthorne was a little boy he 
and his sisters used to play with two little girls. 



92 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

Their names were Sophia and Elizabeth 
Peabody. 

Mr. Hawthorne always remembered them. 

He married Sophia. 

She was a very charming" woman. 

They were very happy together. 

They lived in a house called the Old Manse. 
This house was in the country. 

It was covered with moss and ivy. 

In the orchard were all kinds of fruit. 

A long avenue of trees hid the house from 
the street. 

There was a river near, where beautiful 
water-lilies grew. 

Every evening Mr. Hawthorne liked to 
bathe in the river. 

A dear little daughter came to them. 

She was named Una. 

One of her playmates was a big cat. 



NATHANIEL HAAVTIIORNE. 93 

They called the cat Lion. 

Mr. Hawthorne moved back to Salem. 

But he liked the country better. 

So they left Salem and went where it was 
more quiet. 

They lived in a house called the " little red 
house." 

It was a small house painted red. 

There was a beautiful lake near. 

In the distance were high mountains. 

Una had a little brother and sister. 

Their names were Rosebud and Julian. 

Rosebud had blue eyes and rosy cheeks. 

They had great fun together. 

Mr. Hawthorne always played with them. 

He was the best playfellow they had. 

They had a large hen-coop and many hens. 

The hens were tame. 

Each hen knew its own name. 



1)4 NATHANIKL HAWTHORNE. 

The children did not like to have their pets 
killed. 

They thought it was wicked to eat them. 

Their father took them coasting in the 
winter. 

They had a large sled which Mr. Hawthorne 
steered. 

Sometimes they would all tumble into a big 
snowdrift. 

In the autumn they went nutting. 

Where do you suppose they put the nuts 
which they gathered ? 

They put them in a large oven which the 
mother did not use. 

This oven contained bags and bags of nuts. 

They had a pet rabbit. 

At first Bunny was named '' Spring." 

Afterwards they changed his name to 
'' Hindlegs." 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 95 

He was very nimble. 

But poor Hindlegs was taken ill and died. 

Little Julian said he had the scarlet fever. 

They buried him in the garden. 

Mr. Hawthorne wrote about Bunny. 

Mr. Hawthorne wrote a book for children. 

His own children knew it almost by heart. 

It is called '' The Wonder Book." 

Many children wrote to him and asked him 
to write another book like it. 

He did write several other books for 
children. 

One of them is '' Grandfather s Chair." 

He loved children very much or he would 
not have written these books for them. 

Mr. Hawthorne bought a house in Concord. 

Concord is not far from Boston. 

Louisa Alcott had lived in this house. 

She has written many stories for children. 



NATHANIEL IIAWTITORNE. 07 

They named this house " The Wayside." 

It was a quaint old house. 

It had many pretty little piazzas. 

There were many locust trees around the 
house. 

Mr. Hawthorne loved to sit under these 
locust trees. 

He built a tower at the top of the house. 

He used this tower for a study. 

The tower was reached by narrow winding 
stairs. 

It was well lighted by five windows. 

The only thing in the tower was a high 
writing desk. 

Mr. Hawthorne always stood when he wrote. 

Mr. Hawthorne was sent to England as 
consul. 

The children were delighted to cross the 
ocean. 



8 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

They traveled a great deal in Europe. 

They saw many beautiful pictures and 
statues. 

Mr. Hawthorne wrote a story about one of 
the statues which he saw. 

They were very glad to return home. 

It was the time of the great Civil War. 

Mr. Hawthorne felt very sad because there 
was a war in our country. 

He thought that the poor black people 
should be free. 

Little Julian was too young to go to war. 

He drilled with the boys. 

He said he was going to be a soldier when 
he was old enough, 

Mr. Hawthorne did not send his children to 
school. 

He taught them at home. 

He would often read to them from his 
books. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 90 

Julian has written a book about his father. 

He has told us what a good man he was. 

Mr. Hawthorne was always bashful. 

He did not care to go into society. 

He did not like to meet strangers. 

He was much loved by those who knew 
him. 

Now people in all parts of the world admire 
and love him. 

He tried to make the world better bv 
writing good books. 

He hated everything that was evil. 

You will all want to read the ''Wonder 

Book," and his other stories for boys and girls. 
L.ofC. 




Wir.LIAM CULl.EN BRYANT. 



The Story of Bryant, 




Once upon a time there was a little boy 
whose name is too long, perhaps, for you 
to remember. 

It is William Cullen Bryant. 

Probably his parents called him Willie. 

Willie was born in a small town in 
Massachusetts. 

101 



102 THE STORY OF BRYANT. 

This town was among the hills. 

A beautiful river flowed through the 
town. 

It had beautiful woods. 

Willie, when only a small boy, liked 
to go into the woods. 

He liked to watch the trees and birds. 

He was born in a small log-house. 

This house, built of square logs, was 
soon afterwards torn down. 

It had a large chimney. 

This chimney was as large as some 
kitchens. 

Willie used to sit inside it on a bench. 

Near this log-house was another house, 
called the " Bryant homestead." 

Here Willie lived during most of his 
childhood. 

He was very happy in this old house. 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 



103 



Willie's father was a doctor. 

Willie was not a well boy, and his 
father and mother were often anxious 
about him. 




His father wished to make Willie well 
and strong. 

He did everything he could for him. 

He had two young men dip Willie 
every morning in a stream of running 
water. 



104 THE STOPvY OP BRYANT. 

Willie did not like it. 

He used to kick and scream and try to 
get away. 

After he became strong, he was glad 
his father made him do it. 

Are you ever glad that you have done 
things which you did not want to do ? 

Willie was a very bright boy. 

He wrote verses when he was only 
nine years old. 

When he was ten, one of his poems 
was printed in a paper. 

Willie lived in the house in which his 
grandfather and grandmother lived. 

His grandfather was a very stern man. 

He had to punish all men who did not 
obey the laws-. 

In those days they punished by 
the stocks and by whipping. 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 



lUo 



They did not have jails as they do now. 
In the middle of the town was the 
whipping-post. 




A man who had done wrong would be 
tied to it. 

Then he would be whipped with a 
large, heavy whip, 

Willie saw a young man who had 
received forty lashes for stealing. 



106 THE STORY OF BRYANT. 

Willie was very much afraid of his 
grandfather. 

He even feared to ask a favor of him. 

He would tremble and blush and 
forget what to say. 

He was not so afraid of his father and 
mother. 

Parents were stricter with their chil- 
dren then than they are now. 

They believed that a child who was not 
whipped often would not be a good child. 

Children were taught to be very 
respectful to older people. 

They were taught great respect for 
ministers. 

Ministers used to visit the school on 
certain occasions. 

Then the children would be dressed in 
their Sunday clothes. 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 107 

The ministers would ask questions 
about their lessons. 

They would talk to the children for a 
few moments. 

This was always a great occasion for 
the children and their teacher. 

The children were glad when it was 
over, for they always had a vacation then. 

Willie did not study so many studies 
as you do. 

He studied only reading, writing, and 
arithmetic. 

The school-house was near his house. 

It was built beside a little brook. 

Willie afterwards wrote a poem about 
this brook, called *' The Rivulet." 

Willie was a quiet boy. 

He did not play very much with the 
boys and girls at school. 



108 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 



He would rather be by himself in the 
woods. 

He liked to fish. 




Sometimes he would go to a husking 
bee. 

All the neighbors used to meet in a 
barn to husk the yellow ears of 
corn. 



THE STORY OF BKYAXT. 109 

The boys and girls would get together 
by themselves. 

They would tell stories and sing songs. 

They had great fun if a boy found a 
red ear of corn. 




He could then kiss the girl he liked 
best. 

Willie had to go to church three times 
on Sunday. 

There was a tithing-man in church. 



110 THE STORY OF BRYANT. 

If any little boy or girl was naughty, 
he would punish them with a stick. 

If any old man or woman fell asleep, 
he would wake them up. 

I do not believe he ever had to punish 
Willie, do you ? 

Willie's father was very kind and 
gentle. 

He was very strong. 

He could lift a heavy barrel from the 
ground into a wagon. 

He always wanted one of his sons to 
be a doctor. 

He named Willie, William Cullen, 
after Dr. Cullen, a great doctor. 

He hoped Willie would become a 
doctor. 

Willie liked to write ; so he became a 
poet. 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 



HI 




Willie s mother was good to him. 

She taught him poems when he was 
only three years old. 

She taught him to be honest and 
truthful. 

Willie always liked to read and study. 

He liked to pick the beautiful flowers 
in the woods. 

In the spring he used to gather the 
white laurel and azalia. 



112 THE STORY OF BRYANT. 

He liked to listen to the songs of the 
birds. 

In the autumn, he admired the beauti- 
ful scarlet and gold leaves on the trees. 

He always felt sad when the leaves 
fell. 

It was not strange he liked to go into 
the woods. 

The wind kissed his cheeks and made 
them rosy. 

The trees whispered to him beautiful 
thoughts. 

The streams sang songs to him. 

The flowers were his dearest friends. 

The mountains taught him about God. 

We know this, because he tells us so in 
his poems. 



TFIP] STORY OF BKVANT. ll.i 

Here is what he says of The Fringed 
Gentian: 

TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN. 

Thou blossom bright, with autumn dew. 
And colored with the heaven's own blue, 
That openesL when the quiet light 
Succeeds the keen and frosty night. 

Thou comest not when violets lean 
O'er wandering brooks and springs 

unseen, 
Or columbines, in purple dressed, 
Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest. 

Thou waitest late, and com'st alone, 
-When woods are bare and bird are flown, 
And frosts and shortening day portend 
The aged year is near his end. 



114 THE STORY OF BRYANT. 

When he was thirteen he , wrote a 
poem about politics. 

People could not believe it was written 
by a boy so young. 

The printer said he could give the 
names of friends of the boy. 

When Willie was fourteen he studied 
with his uncle. 

He paid only one dollar a week for his 
board. 

He was small for his age. 

He had a great deal of dark brown 
hair. He was a handsome boy. 

His brothers and sisters always liked 
to have him at home. 

He played all kinds of games with 
them. 

He would speak peices which he him- 
self had written. 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 115 

He used to run races with them. 

He nearly always ran faster than they. 

When he was sixteen, he went to 
college. 

His father became very poor. 

So Willie left college, after he had 
been there only two years. 

He wrote a poem about death when he 
was eighteen. 

He put it away in a drawer with other 
poems. 

His father found it one day. 

He read it to a lady friend. 

It seemed so wonderful to her that she 
burst into tears. 

Dr. Bryant cried also. 

He felt very much pleased that his son 
could write so well when he was so 
young. 



ik; 



TIIK STORY OF BRYANT. 




Willie studied law and became a 
lawyer. 

While a lawyer he liked to wander 
about the woods. 

He would come home with his arms 
full of flowers and leaves. 

He wrote many poems about what he 
saw in the woods. 
" On the hill the golden-rod, 

And the Aster in the wood, 

And the yellow sun-flower by the brook, 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 117 

In autumn beauty stood, 
Till fell the frost from the clear, cold 

heaven, 
As falls the plague on men ; 
And the brightness of their smile was 
gone 
From upland, glade and glen." 

One evening he saw a wild duck fly 
across the sky at sunset. 

He knew that God guided the bird. 

He knew that God would not let the 
bird lose his way. 

He went home and wrote a poem 
about the bird. 

Here is one stanza for you to learn. 

It shows that Mr. Bryant believed that 
God would guide him as well as he did 
the bird. 



11« 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 




"He who from zone to zone 
Guides through the boundless sky 

thy certain flight, 
In the long way that I must tread 

alone, 
Will guide my steps aright. 



Mr. Bryant married a beautiful woman. 

He loved her very dearly. 

They lived together for a long time 
very happily. 

Mrs. Bryant died several years before 
Mr. Bryant. 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. Ill) 

After she died he wrote a poem which 
showed how much he missed her. 

Mn Bryant had one sister, who died 
when she was a little girl. 

He wrote a beautiful poem about her. 

He calls her the sweetest flower of all. 

Mr Bryant never liked law. 

Just as soon as he was able, he gave it 
up for writing. 

He became editor of the " New York 
Evening Post." 

Perhaps some of your fathers and 
mothers read this paper every evening. 

He wrote a large history of the United 
States. 

He wrote a number of poems about 
flowers and birds. 

One is about a yellow violet. 

Here are some verses from it. 



120 THE STORY OF BRYAl^T. 

THE YELLOW VIOLET. 

When the beechen buds begin to swell, 
And woods the blue-bird's warble know, 

The yellow violet's modest bell 

Peeps from the last year's leaves below. 

Ere russet fields their green resume, 
Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare. 

To meet thee, when thy faint perfume 
Alone is in the virgin air. 

Of all her train, the hands of Spring 
First plant thee in the watery mouldy 

And I have seen thee blossoming 
Beside the snow-bank's edges cold. 

Thy parent sun, who bade thee view 
Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip, 

Has bathed thee in his own bright hue. 
And streaked with jet thy glowing lip» 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 121 

Oft, in the sunless April day, 

Thy early smile has stayed my walk ; 
But midst the gorgeous blooms of May, 

I've passed thee on thy humble stalk. 

'' So they who climb to wealth, forget 
The friends in darker fortune tried. 

I copied them — but I regret 

That I should ape the ways of pride." 



Another poem is called '' Robert of 
Lincoln." 

This is about a bobolink, his wife and 
little ones. 

They had a nest hidden among the 
flowers, 



122 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 




*' Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 
Near to the nest of his little dame, 
Over the mountain side or mead, 
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink : 
Snug and safe in that nest of ours 
Hidden among. the summer flowers. 
Chee, chee, chee." 



He wrote one poem about a mosquito. 
You see he loved everything in nature, 
even mosquitoes. 



THE STORY OF BRYANT. 123 

Mr. Bryant was kind to other poets. 

He always tried to praise them in 
some way. 

He did not like to hurt their feelings, 
even when they could not write well. 

He bought a house near New York, 
called '' Cedarmere." 

He planted beautiful trees and flowers 
there. 

There was a little lake in the green 
lawn. 

He loved to row in his daughter's 
pretty boat. 

He loved to talk and play with his 
dear grandchildren. 

They wanted to be with him nearly all 
the time. 

He afterwards bought the " Bryant 



124 THE STORY OF BRYANT. 

Homestead," where he had lived when a 
boy. 

He loved this home because he had 
been a boy there. 

Everyone loved Mr. Bryant because he 
was so kind and good. 

When he was seventy years old, his 
friends met to thank him for his poems, 
and to give him presents. 

When he was eighty years old, he was 
given a beautiful vase by those who 
loved him. 

This vase was made of silver and cost 
five thousand dollars. 

This shows how many friends Mr. 
Bryant had. 

Mr. Bryant lived to a good old age. 

He almost always drank water. 

He never smoked, 



THK STORY OF BRYANT. l^o 

He rose at about five o'clock in the 
morning. 

He always went to bed early. 

He exercised with dumb-bells every 
morning before breakfast to keep himself 
well and strong. 

He walked a great deal. 

He ate simple food. 

He ate a great deal of fruit. 

He was a good man. 

Do you wonder that he lived to be an 
old man ? 

We shall want to read all his poems 
when older. 




JAMES Kl'SSELL I.OWKI-t 



James Russell Lowell 



You have all heard about Harvard Univer- 
sity in Cambridge. 

Not far from there is a fine old house. 

It is hidden by large trees from the road. 

Beautiful shrubs and flowers cover the lawn 

But the elm trees tower above all the 
others. 

They are very ancient and worthy of 
reverence. 

So the place is called Elmwood. 

This house was built before the Revolution. 

Many great men have lived there. 

127 



128 JAMES RtlSSELL LOWELL. 

But for many years it has belonged to the 
Lowell family. 

They wish it to remain " old-fashioned," as 
a house which has been built so many years 
should be. 

On one of Washington's birthdays, James 
Russell Lowell was born at Elmwood. Here 
he always lived. 

He had reason to be proud of his family. 

It consisted not only of great men but of 
good men. 

The city, Lowell, was named after one of 
the family. 

And another one assisted in putting an 
end to slavery in Massachusetts. 

James was the youngest of five children. 

His father was a minister and a very good 
man. 

He aKvays tried to do his duty. 



JAMES KUSSELL LOWELL. 129 

The mother was very fond of old songs. 

She repeated them to her children until 
they knew the songs by heart. 

So James loved poetry when a child. 

But the dear mother's mind was not 
strong. 

She became insane, to the deep sorrow of 
her family. r 

We can read about this sad story in one of 
Lowell's poems, called ''The Darkened Mind." 

There was a large library at Elmwood. 

So the children could read all they wished. 

Here James delighted to spend his time. 

He read all kinds of books, — books for boys 
and books for men. 

When he was a man he remembered what 
he had read in boyhood. 

His friends often wondered how he knew 
so much. 



JAMES KUSSELL LOWELL- 131 

Just across the street from Elmwood was a 
school for boys. 

James attended this school until he entered 
college. 

He did not care much for study. 

In those days boys often had more fear 
of whippings than they had love of study. 

When he was sixteen he entered Harvard 
College. 

But still he did not care for study. 

At one time he was sent to Concord to 
make up some of his back work. 

He wrote about Concord afterwards, 
'' I know the village, though ; was sent there 

once 
A-schoolin', cause to home I played the dunce." 

He began to write poetry while in college. 

So he was made the class poet. 



L32 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, 

But he was not allowed to read his class 
poem, or to graduate with his class. 

He watched the out-door exercises of his 
class through a hole in the canvas cover of a 
wagon. 

He often spoke of this afterwards. 

He was very sorry that he had not studied 
more. 

Later he was allowed to take his degree. 

James's father saw that he liked to write 
rhymes. 

He thought that was what made James idle. 

So he tried to make his son promise that he 
would never write any more. 

James did not want to make such a promise. 

But to please his father he did do so. 

He began to study law and gave up writing. 

At this time people were thinking about 
the question of slavery. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. IXl 

James was gay and fond of society. 

He laughed at those who were opposed to 
slavery. 

But he soon changed. 

He became acquainted with a young lady 
named Maria White. 

She was the sister of one of his classmates, 
and a very beautiful woman. 

She was also a poet. One of her poems, 
** The Alpine Sheep," is well known. 

But she was very much against slavery. 

She had great intluence over Lowell, and 
she always used it for good. 

Her father would not allow her to marry 
him until he had settled down to work. 

So after he became a lawyer they were 
married. 

If we should visit the hall at Elmwood we 
would see their pictures, painted at this time. 



134 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 

Mrs. Lowell has bright blue eyes and a 
sweet face. 

Her light brown hair is combed smoothly 
back from her face. 

Mr. Lowell's wavy auburn hair is long and 
falls to his shoulders. Their dress looks 
strange to us now. 

We could almost imagine that they were 
speaking to us from their pictures. 

They were very happy together at Elmwood. 

They lived in a simple way. 

But they believed in doing good. 

They believed that all men should be 
equal. 

They did not think that one man ought to 
be the slave or the servant of another. 

So, at one time, their servants ate with them 
at the same table. 

But the dear wife was very delicate. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 135 

Several boys and girls gladdened the home 
for a short time. 

Only one lived to grow up. 

She has always been very dear to her father. 

Mr. Lowell has written several poems about 
his children. 

There is one called the '' Changeling," and 
another, called '' The First Snowfall," which 
you will want to learn. 

He had written for several magazines just 
before his marriage. 

His poetry was beginning to be well known. 

He found that he must write. 

So he gave up law after his first volume of 
poems appeared. 

But the poem which we shall all love is 
called, *' The Vision of Sir Launfal." 

It was written in less than two days. 

During this time he neither ate nor slept. 



130 JAMES KUSSELL LOWELL. 

The poem teaches us noble lessons. 

We must do the thing which lies next to us. 

We must not wait for great things to do. 

It is a story of the Holy Grail. 

The Holy Grail was the cup out of which 
Jesus drank at the Last Supper. 

It was brought to England as an object of 
worship. 

Those who had charge of the Holy Cup 
must be pure in thought, word, and deed. 

But at one time some one who was not pure 
had charge of it and it disappeared. 

Search was made for it, but all in vain. 

In this story, Sir Launfal is about to search 
for the Holy Grail. 

The night before he starts he has a dream. 

He dreams he goes forth from his noble 
castle. 

He meets a beggar who asks for alms. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 137 

Scornfully- he throws the poor man a piece 
of silver. 

The beggar will not take the money from so 
proud a man. 

Many years afterwards Sir Launfal returns 
to his castle, poor and sad. 

He has not found the Holy Grail. 

There, near his castle, he finds the same 
beggar whom he had seen so many years before. 

Now he gives him half his crust of bread 
and treats him as a friend. 

Then the beggar changes his form. 

He is the blessed Christ. 

And here in his own castle-yard Sir Launfal 
finds the Holy Grail. 

So, the next morning when Sir Launfal 
awoke, he decided to remain at home. By 
kindness to the poor he will there find the 
Holy Grail. 



138 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 

This Lowell tells us, is true charity : 
" Not what we give, but what we share, — 
For the gift without the giver is bare ; 
Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, — 
Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me." 

During Mr. Lowell's lifetime, there were 
two wars in the United States. 

One was the war of 1840, or the Mexican War. 

The other was the Civil War, or the war 
between the North and South on account of 
slavery. 

Great men wrote and spoke about them. 

Mr. Lowell, by a few short funny poems, 
attracted much attention. 

People were much pleased with the poems. 

They were called '' The Bigelow Papers." 

No one knew who wrote them. 

It was thought that Mr. Lowell could not 
have written them. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. l;U) 

The poems were so unlike anything else he 
had written. 

They show that Mr. Lowell was a true 
patriot. 

He loved the welfare of his country. 

There were many other writers living at 
this time. 

Longfellow, Whittier, and Bryant were in 
our own country. 

In England there were many others. 

Mr. Lowell knew many of these writers. 

He wrote a poem a'bout them, called '' The 
Fable for Critics." 

He describes in a very kindly way the 
manner in which each one writes. 

He even describes himself. 

The dear wife became weaker and weaker. 

They travelled through Europe for her health. 

But it was all in vain ; she did not recover. 



UO JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 

Mr. Lowell was very sad and unable to 
write for some time. 

His wife had made him the noble man he 
was. 

He showed his great sorrow in a beautiful 
poem called, '' After the Burial." 

'' There's a narrow ridge in the grave-yard, 
Would scarce stay a child in his race, 
But to me and my thoughts it is wider 
Than the star-sown vague of space. 

Cummunion in spirit ! Forgive me. 
But I, who am earthy and weak, 

Would give all my income from dream-land 
For one touch of her hand on my cheek." 

The same evening that Mrs. Lowell died, a 
little daughter was born to Longfellow. 

So Mr. Longfellow wrote a poem to show 
his sympathy. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. I4I 

It is called, '' The Two Angels." 

**Two Angels, one of Life and one of Death." 

Mr. Longfellow was a professor in Harvard 
College. 

Mr. Lowell was appointed to succeed him 
after he left. 

But he felt that he ought to study more. 

So he went to Europe for study. 

He did not remain so long as he thought 
he would. 

He left a certain sum of money at the bank. 

He said when that was gone he should 
return home. 

One day he heard that the money was all 
gone. 

He did not think he had used so much. 

But he returned home, as he said he should. 

Years afterward he received a letter saying 
that the bank had made a mistake. 



142 JAMES BUSSELL LOWELL. 

He had not spent all the money. 

So, to his joy, he received over three 
thousand dollars from the bank. 

This money he used in furnishing his 
house. 

Mr. Lowell was very popular at Harvard. 

Many of his lectures we can read now. 

Mr. Lowell's little girl was without a mother. 

She needed a mother's care. 

He married a charming woman, named 
Frances Dunlap. 

She had taught his daughter for some time, 
and was very fond of her. 

At this time he was connected with one of 
our famous magazines. 

He was editor of the '^ Atlantic Monthly." 

One of Mr. Lowell's famous poems is, '' The 
Commemoration Ode." 

It was the great poem of the Civil War. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 14;^ 

Many sons of Harvard University died in 
the war. 

So in their memory a hall was built. 

When the hall was opened, this poem was 
read before many friends of the college. 

It was a sad scene and just at the close of the 
war. 

Crowds of people were present to listen to 
the exercises. 

There was hardly a person who had not 
lost some loved friend in the war. 

Yet all were joyful as well as sad. 

Right had won the victory and slavery was 
abolished. 

After the war cloud, Mr. Lowell led a very 
quiet life at Elmwood. 

He always loved to see his friends. 

Every Saturday afternoon he was at home. 

The greatest men in the land used to visit him. 



^44 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 

They all liked to hear Mr. Lowell talk. 

He was the best of good company. 

A whist club was formed at Elmwood. ' 

But the players often forgot about the 
cards. 

They were too occupied in conversation. 

Mr. Lowell was very fond of walking. 

He used to walk along the banks of the 
river Charles. 

Often he visited the beautiful Mt. Auburn 
cemetery, which is very near Elmwood. 

He delighted to work in his garden even 
until he was an old man. 

He knew the song of every bird. 

In the spring he was always the first to 
pick the wild flowers. 

He knew them all, and where each one grew. 

He has written many poems about nature. 

In all of them he wishes to make men better. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 145 

There is one he wrote on the common 
dandelion. 

But he wrote prose also, as well as poetry. 

He loved to sit in his study and watch the 
birds and squirrels in his garden. 

Then he tells us about them in a most 
charming way. 

We feel as if they were his friends and he 
loved them. 

He calls them his *' Garden Aquaintances." 

Mr. Lowell was very fond of children. 

Once upon a time he knew a little girl in 
England. 

Her name was May. 

She was not old enough to speak plain. 

She asked him to write in her birthday-book. 

So he wrote a very nice poem for her. 

He wrote it in lisping language just as she 
talked. 



146 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 

We could not read it, I fear. 

He was very kind to all, whether poor or 
rich. 

A servant who saw him said : 

*' I declare, Ma'am, Mr. Lowell has the 
coaxinest eyes I ever see wid a man." 

But his quiet life at Elmwood did not last 
many years. 

He was sent by the President as Minister 
to Spain. 

It was the first public office he had ever 
held. 

The President thought that so famous a 
man ought to be honored by his country. 

Later he was sent to England. 

He was welcomed by all people there. 

Great honors were paid him. 

He made many famous speeches. 

Mrs. Lowell died while they were in England. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 147 

So after Mr. Lowell's return to America, 
he lived with his daughter and her children 
at Elmwood. 

He spent his time in writing a life of his 
friend, Hawthorne. 

Mr. Lowell was a man who never was 
obliged to write. 

He always had plenty of money. 

He simply wrote because he loved to write. 

He only wrote when he felt in the mood 
for it. 

He made the most of his talents. 

He always obeyed the voice of duty. 

We do not admire him for his writings 
alone. 

We admire him because he was a good 
man. 



MEMORY GEMS 

FROM 

SIR LAUNFAL. 

W^ritten by James Russell Lowell, 1845. 

And what is so rare as a day in June? 

Then, if ever, come perfect days ; 
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, 

And over it softly her warm ear Vdyr. 

'Tis heaven alone that is given away, 
'Tis only God may be had for the asking. 

Better to me the poor man's crust, 
Better the blessing of the poor. 
Though I turn me empty from his door : 
That is no true alms which the hand can hold ; 
He gives nothing but worthless gold 
Who gives from a sense of duty. 

148 



TO THE DANDELION. 

.Dear common flower that growst beside the 

way, 
Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, 

Which not the rich earth's ample round 
May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me 
Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be. 
My childhoods earliest thoughts are linked 

with thee ; 
The sight of thee calls back the robin's song, 

Who, from the dark old tree 
Beside the door, sang clearly all day long, 
And I, secure in childish piety. 
Listened as if I heard an angel sing 

With news from Heaven, which he 
could bring 
Fresh every day to my untainted ears. 
When birds and flowers and I were happy 
peers 

149 



F 



'M^^^Xi^ 




LOUISA M. ALCOTT. 



Louisa Alcott, 



Girls may become famous as well as boys. 

A little girl came into a happy home in 
Germantown, near Philadelphia, in 1832. 

They called her Louisa, and her father 
was Mr. Alcott. 

Louisa Alcott was always the children's 
friend. 

Mr. Alcott was always fond of writing. 

Some of his brothers laughed at him, but 
his mother did not. 

She saved every scrap of paper, that he 
might learn something from it. 

In the winter time his copy-book was a 
great snow-bank. 

151 



152 LOUISA ALOOTT. 

On this, with a stick, he would trace 
beautiful letters and splendid capitals. 

He said, '' I will be a scholar some day." 

He was a scholar. 

Every one respected him. 

Louisa had a beautiful mother. 

She taught her children to be loving and 
generous. 

She liked to see her children happy. 

She knew a great deal about many things. 

She would tell Louisa and her sisters 
stories of great men. 

When Louisa was older she wrote a book, 
called '' Old Fashioned Girl," she wrote the 
stories of La Fayette and Madam Hancock, 
just as her mother had told them to her. 

When Louisa was very little, the family 
went to Boston to live. 

This was little Louisa's first ride on a 
steamboat. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. ir>;3 

She wore a clean, new dress that day. 

After a little time Louisa was not to be 
seen. '' Where is she ? " said her mother. 

They hunted everywhere. 

At last they found her in the engine-room. 

She had been having a beautiful time 
looking at the engine. 

She wanted to know all about everything, 
even when a little girl. 

The engine-room was a dingy little room, 
and Louisa's new dress was nearly black 
with dirt. It was spoiled. 

But she had learned a great deal about 
that engine. 

She had an enquiring mind. 

She was fond of books. When she was 
a very little girl, she would build houses and 
bridges with her books. 

She would sit for hours and look at the 



ir,4 LOUISA ALCOTT. 

pictures, and make up childish stories about 
each. 

When she found some blank pages, she 
would get a lead pencil and cover the pages 
with queer little marks. 

She played she was writing a story. 

I am afraid no one could read her stories 
then. 

But Louisa knew what they were all about. 

Once she built a house around her baby 
sister. 

The house was made of a high pile of 
books. 

Louisa went off to play and forgot her 
little sister. 

When she came back the baby was fast 
asleep in her castle. 

One day in the streets of Boston, Louisa 
lost her way home. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. ]5r> 

She sat down to rest. 

A large dog came and sat down beside her. 

The dog made friends with her. 

She liked dogs. 

She was so tired she fell asleep on a door- 
step, with her head on the big dog's curly 
back. 

A man went through the streets ringing a 
great bell. He cried out : '' Lost ! a little girl, 
four years old ! Curly brown hair ! Blue eyes ! 
Had on a pink frock and new green shoes ! 
She calls herself ' Poppy.' " 

Little Louisa awoke and said, ''Why, dat's 
me ! 

Her father taught a school of thirty boys. 
They were about ten years old. 

He told them stories of birds, anirrials, 
flowers and rocks. 

He taught them that manliness is the 
greatest and best thing in a boy. 



1;70 LOUISA ALCOTT. 

When Louisa was four years old there 
was a celebration at her father's school. 

Little Louisa wore a crown of bright 
flowers. 

She stood up on a table and gave cakes to 
the children as they passed her. 

She saw there would not be cakes enough; 
so she held the last one tightly. 

Her mother said : " It is better to give 
than to keep nice things." 

So the little child who was waiting re- 
ceived the plum cake from Louisa, and Louisa 
received a kiss from her mamma. 

All her life she found it was better to give 
nice things to others than to keep them for 
herself. 

Louisa was a very lively little girl. She 
could drive a hoop very far without stopping 
once. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. If, 7 

Once she rolled her hoop along so fast 
that it rolled right into a frog pond. 

Louisa was running so fast herself she 
could not stop and so she fell in after it. 

We can read more about this in her story 
called, " Poppy's Pranks." 

Louisa's dolls were fed, sent to school, 
punished and rewarded like all children. 

They were nursed, even hung and buried, 
and made to do everything that real people 
do. 

She would tell long stories to her dolls. 

She was a very sensible and wise mamma 
to them. 

After a time the Alcotts went to live in 
Concord, Mass. 

The house was pleasant, and the garden 
was full of trees. 

Here there was a great barn, and in this 



1,38 LOUrSA ALCOTT. 

the children had merry games and grand 
times. 

Louisa liked best to act out plays. 

"Jack and the Bean Stalk" was the play 
the children all liked best. 

Louisa and her little friends would drag in 
a long squash vine and twine it to the top 
of a ladder. This they played was the bean- 
stalk. 

Louisa had a tumble from the bean-stalk 
one day when she was climbing to the giant's 
castle. 

Sometimes the children would act out 
Cinderella. 

Then they had a huge pumpkin ; and 
Louisa would play she was Cinderella, and 
would ride away on the top of the pumpkin. 

Louisa could climb trees, leap fences, run 
races, skate, coast, play ball, swim and row. 



LOUISA ALCOTT, 159 

Sometimes she would even beat the boys 
in running. 

She liked to play games the boys played. 

These out-door games made her strong and 
healthy. 

Louisa would tell all her little playmates 
such beautiful and such wonderful stories. 

They never heard stories like Louisa 
Alcott's stories. 

After she told the story, she would jump 
up and say, '' Now, let's act it all out." 

Then away they would go. 

Sometimes they were pilgrims ; and with 
large canes, scrip and staff, they journeyed 
over the hills. 

Again they were Roman soldiers, march- 
ing, with old tree twigs for guns. 

Then they were Indians, with tomahawks 
and feathers. 



160 LOUISA ALCOTT 

Again they were fairies, with paper wings; 
and then they skipped about over the Concord 
meadows and among the trees. 

In her book called '' Little Women," we 
read of their games, pranks and frolics. 

Once they had a strawberry party in a 
rustic arbor. 

To this party they invited Mr. Emerson 
and Mr. Hawthorne. 

These great, good men came. They had a 
very merry time, telling stories and eating 
strawberries, while the little maids served 
the food. 

One cold morning, when Louisa was eight 
years old, she found a poor, half-starved robin. 

She felt very sorry for it. 

She took the bird into the house, and 
warmed and fed it. 

Louisa had a kind heart. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. 161 

♦ 

After the bird was well, Louisa wrote a 
little poem. It was called : 

TO A ROBIN. 

"Welcome, welcome, little stranger, 
Fear no harm, and fear no danger; 
We are glad to see you here, 
For you sing '' Sweet Spring is near ". 

Now the white snow melts away ; 
Now the flowers blossom gay ; 
Come dear bird and build you nest 
For we love our robin best." 

She showed these verses to her mother. 

Her mother read them and was pleased. 

She was quite proud of her little girl's 
efforts. 

She said, '' You will grow up a Shakespeare." 

Shakespeare was a great writer who lived 
in England long ago. 



162 LOUISA ALCOTT 

♦ 

But little Louisa grew up to be a great 
and famous story writer for children. 

The family were very poor. * 

Louisa wished her mother and sisters 
could have more beautiful things. 

She did not care so much for them her- 
self. 

She was very generous. 

When very young, she felt she must try 
to earn some money. 

Louisa knew that the family must all be fed 
and clothed and kept warm. 

She was not ashamed that they were poor; 
but how she longed to do something. 

'' I will some day," she would say. 

Although the Alcott family were poor, there 
was always some one poorer, to whom they 
would give help. 

Once they gave away their dinner. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. 163 

Again they gave away their wood. 

Louisa was always very fond of animals. 

When very young, she would play with 
the cats and dogs. 

She nursed them in sickness, buried them 
with funeral honors, wrote funeral sermons 
about them. She wrote '' The Seven Black 
Cats." 

When she was older, this story was printed, 
with others, in a book called, " Aunt Jo's 
Scrap Bag." 

Little Louisa used to recite her lessons 
to her father. 

In warm days they had their lessons under 
the shade trees in the garden. She liked 
this. 

Here she would learn about the flowers, 
grasses and insects ; and her father would tell 
her wonderful stories. 



16^4 LOUISA ALCOTT. 

Then he would take long walks with the 
children over hill and dale. 

Louisa wrote in a little book the events of 
each day. 

She w^ould write many of her thoughts in 
this book ; also her struggles and her wishes. 

Often she made drawings in the book, to 
show what she had seen or done. 

At one time Louisa went to a district 
school for a few months. 

There were but few children at that school. 

It was a queer, little, old-fashioned school 
house. 

She tells us about some of the frolics there 
in her book called, '' Under the Lilacs." 

At another time a lady kept a school in Mr. 
Emerson's barn, and Louisa went there. Mr. 
Emerson was a great writer, who lived near 
the Alcotts. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. IGo 

When a little older, Mr. Lane taught her. 
Here is one lesson. Louisa wrote the 
answers. 

*' How can you get what you need ? 
By trying. 
How do you try ? 
By resolution and perseverance. 
How gain love ? 
By gentleness. 
What is gentleness ? 
Kindness, patience and care for others. 
Who has it? 
Father and Anna. 
Who means to have it ? 
Louisa, if she can." 

Louisa liked to write little stories about 
her young playmates, the Emersons, Chan- 
nings, and the Hawthorne children. 

She would write poems about them. 



166 LOUISA ALCOTT. 

She liked to write poems about dead 
butterflies, lost kittens, and little birds. 

She would make little presents for her 
mother and sister Anna. 

Then she would write some verses about 
the gift, and put them in the package. 

They liked the verses even more than the 
presents sometimes. 

When she was ten years old, her mother 
gave her a present of a pencil-case. 

Her mother wrote a note and gave it to 
her with the present. 

In the note she said : '' Your tenth birth- 
day has arrived. May it be a happy one. 
I give you the pencil-case as I promised. I 
have observed you are fond of writing." 

When she was fourteen, her mother gave 
her a pen. 

Her mother liked to have her write. 



LOmSA ALCOTT. 167 

When Louisa was twelve years old, she 
put out this sign : " Dolls' Dressmaking." 

Then she put some doll dressss in the 
window. They were of wonderful style and 
pattern. 

All the children brought their dolls to her 
to be fitted and dressed. 

She made hats and bonnets for the dolls 
too. 

She chased her neighbors hens, and pulled 
out their prettiest, downiest feathers for plumes 
to trim her hats. 

Her dressmaking establishment was soon 
followed by a little school. 

She began to teach some of the very little 
children of the neighborhood to read. 

But she did not like to teach. 

She liked to read and write. 

Mr. Emerson had many rare and beauti- 
ful books in his home. 



168 LOUISA ALCOTT. 

He would lend these to Louisa and 
explain many of their pages to her. 

Louisa grew to love Mr. Emerson. 

When fifteen, she composed some poetry 
about him. 

l^hen she sat up in a tall cherry-tree one 
night singing the verses, till the owls scared 
her off to bed. 

At other times she would leave wild flowers 
on Mr. Emerson's doorstep. 

Once she sang a song under his window. 

But she sang it in very bad German ; and, 
had he heard, I think he could not have 
understood. 

Once she wrote very wild, exciting stories 
for three months. 

Then she read them over and thought they 
were neither beautiful nor true ; so she burned 
them all. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. If.O 

When she was sixteen, she wrote a little 
story called, " Flower Fables." 

A few years later it was printed, and she 
received thirty-two dollars for this ; but gave 
the money to her mother and her sisters. 

Louisa felt that she must earn something 
for the family. 

She said, " While I have health, and a head, 
and two hands, I will work." 

Once she did the housework in a strange 
family. 

It was hard. She got very tired. 

Few happy moments came to her. 

She worked seven weeks. 

The man gave her four dollars. 

She gave the money back to the man. 

She felt that homely, honest work should 
never be despised, but should be appreciated. 

Later on, she had a little garret room in 



170 LOUISA ALCOTT. 

Boston, with her papers, pens and books 
about her. 

Here she planned and wrote stories. 

Sometimes she had little to eat. 

Sometimes she sewed for ladies far into 
the night. 

Then she would treat herself by going to 
hear a fine lecture. 

This did not happen very often. 

Again she taught school. 

She would not be idle. 

She liked to write stories best of all. 

When in Boston she met great men. They 
were kind to her. 

They helped her because she was trying 
so hard to help herself. 

Once she decided she would be an actress. 

She thought it must be a gay life. 

She liked tragic plays. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. 171 

She planned some fine scenes in her plays. 

She made harps, castles, armor, water falls, 
and even thunder. 

After she had taken a part in several plays, 
she saw that it was a hard life. 

At last Louisa Alcott began to write stories 
and poems in earnest. 

She worked hard ; many nights she worked 
till after midnight. 

Sometimes she wrote when she felt sick, 
and when her head was dizzy, and her hands 
ached with holding her pen so long. 

She was happy when editors took her 
stories, printed them and paid for them. 

Then the home was a merry one. 

A new carpet would be bought. 

Her mother would have a new dress or 
warm shawl. 

Her sister would have a new hat with 
bright ribbons. 



172 LOUISA ALCOTT 

Her father would have a new book. 

Louisa thought of every one but herself.^ 

When the Civil War broke out, she fitted 
out many of the brave boys for the army. 

She sewed and knit many things for the 
boys in blue. 

She wished she could go to war too. 

She said, " If I cannot fight, I can go and 
nurse those who do fight," 

So she went to nurse the soldiers. 

She started with a brave heart, but she had 
a severe fever, and had to return home. 

She suffered many weeks, and never was 
so well again. 

She wrote a great deal about this life in 
'' Hospital Sketches." 

One year she went to Europe with a lady. 

She met many great men and women. 

She liked the grand scenery and beautiful 
cities. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. 17;) 

In Europe she met Thackeray and Dickens. 

She wished she could write as they wrote. 

She came home and worked harder than 
ever. 

She wished she could earn enough to 
enable her sisters to go to Europe. 

She always wanted others to have beauti- 
ful things, and she loved to make them happy. 

Her mother grew pale and sick. 

Then Louisa wrote very fast night after 
night. 

Her mother grew weaker. 

Then Louisa worked harder. 

She took care of her mother very lovingly. 

Everything her mother wished for she tried 
to get. 

Louisa Alcott grew up to be a generous, 
noble woman. 

She was alw^ays fond of boys. 



174 LOUISA ALCOTT. 

She liked to see them manly, polite, and 
eager to learn. 

And how much she did to help the girls ! 

They all loved her. 

Suddenly, after all her hard work, she found 
herself famous. 

All her books sold very fast. 

How the children all over the country read 
her stories ! 

Now her mother could rest in a beautiful 
room and not worry. 

There was plenty of money and there were 
no debts now. 

Her book, '' Little Women," was so natural 
and true that this brought her the money 
she had long needed. 

Everybody read *' Little Women." 

The children in Europe, as well as the 
children in America, read the book. 



LOUISA ALCOTT. , 175 

It was the story of her own girlish life, 
and written very simply and truly. 

She helped her sister to go abroad and 
study art. 

She went too, and they enjoyed seeing the 
beautiful cities in Europe together. 

Everybody wanted to see the lady who had 
written such beautiful stories. 

Without wealth she had built up a great 
and beautiful life. 

We may not have talents like hers, but 
we can have her spirit of love and duty. 

She could not write so much now. She 
was not strong and well. 

She wanted to write more stories for the 
boys and girls. 

She was not able to write, and felt sorry. 

She had worked hard all her life to give 
pleasure to others. 



176 LOUISA ALCOTT. 

Her father died March 4, 1888, and she, two 
days after. 

Louisa Alcott was buried in Sleepy Hollow 
Cemetery at Concord, Massachusetts. 

The people of the country felt, when she 
died, that they had lost a noble woman. 

All the children knew they had lost a dear 
friend. 

''Oh, noble woman ! never more a queen 
Than in the laying down 
Of sceptre and of crown 
To win a greater kingdom, yet unseen. 

Teaching us how to seek the highest goal, 

To earn the true success, — 

To live, to love, to bless, — 
And make death proud to take a royal soul." 



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